WOMAN'S ONLY BUSINESS
THE men at the club were horridly busy that night discussing the silly English law about marrying your dead wife's sister. The talk was quite rabid enough even be- fore an English High-churchman infused his pious venom into the subject-matter. When the argument was at it's highest and the drinks were at their lowest, Bertus Sagner, the biology man at the university, jumped up from his seat with blazing eyes and said "RATS!" not any thing long and Latin, not anything obscure and evasive, not even "rodents," but just plain "RATS! "The look on his face was inordinately disgusted, or indeed more than disgusted, unless disgust is perhaps an emotion that may at times be served red-hot. As he broke away from the gabbling crowd and began to hunt noisily round the room for his papers, I gathered up my own chemistry notebook and started after him. I was a
new man in town and a comparative stranger. But
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